


feel his body rise when you kiss his mouth

by lileau



Category: Glee
Genre: Implied homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lileau/pseuds/lileau
Summary: There’s a wheat field backing onto Blaine’s house.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	feel his body rise when you kiss his mouth

**Author's Note:**

> basically i’ve been listening to fields of gold and feeling sappy

There’s a wheat field backing onto Blaine’s house. Combined with the high fences bracketing either side, it gives the Andersons an awful lot of privacy.

Blaine used to be terrified of it. Terrified of the way it towered over his four year old self and of the stories Cooper would tell about the boogeyman that lived between the shadowed stalks. Once, in the garden with Cooper and his friends, his brother lifted him off the grass of their garden and held him over the fence, laughing as Blaine wriggled and shouted for him to stop. Cooper’s girlfriend smacked his shoulder and lifted Blaine from his arms, putting him safely back on the ground. He’d always liked her the most out of all his brother’s friends. Cooper looked put-out all day.

When his parents’ arguing gets overwhelming, he sneaks out the back door with a book in his hand and a rolled-up blanket under his arm and wades through the field. He walks for a few minutes, then flattens a little square of wheat and reads until it’s too dark to make out the words. Where the blades once felt overbearing and suffocating, they now provide comfort. He feels safest nestled between those golden stalks.

He forgets about it when it’s harvested the September after his twelfth birthday. He barely sees his father anymore, but on the upside the arguing has stopped. The patch he once flattened grows just as thick and healthy as the surrounding crop when the seeds are sown in November.

* * *

He forgets about it for another two years. It’s only April, but he’s at home from school. Everyday. He’d received a broken arm and two fractured ribs in exchange for bringing another boy to a dance back in November. His bones have since healed but his mind is still a little out of sorts. He sleeps most of the day away and only startles awake at the sound of his mom slamming the door as she arrives home from work. He startles easily these days.

Pam had tried to encourage him back to school after the prescribed six to eight weeks of rest, but when the day came he couldn’t even get out of bed. He lied there all day, awake, staring at the ceiling while his mom stroked his hair away from his forehead.

Blaine knows she’s only doing her best to care for him, but after years of parental distance, the sudden attention is overwhelming. He hasn’t lifted a finger since he came out of hospital. He’s no longer given chores, he finds pre-prepared meals for his lunch and his mom brings a plate up to his bedroom for dinner.

He looks through his open window and out over the wide expanse of lush green, fingers curling on the sill as he leans all his weight on his hands. The wheat hasn’t yet taken on its wonderful, ripe yellow. He can’t wait for summer.

* * *

Kurt comes to his house to study a few weeks after he transfers to Dalton. Although very little studying gets done. Blaine finds that he just wants to talk and talk and talk with Kurt. In fact, he thinks he could just listen for hours. Blaine sits on the floor to pull his record collection out from under his bed to show Kurt. Kurt’s not paying much attention though, he realises. Instead, he’s kneeling on the armchair under the window, elbows resting on the back.

“That field kind of creeps me out,” he says.

It’s only 6pm, but the winter sun has long since dipped below the horizon. Blaine doesn’t have to look outside to know the leaves are casting spindly shadows across the dirt.

He smiles at Kurt’s back. “It’s a lot more appealing in the daytime,” he says, and means _it’s my favourite place in the world._

The evening is far too cold and the wheat far too young to show Kurt properly, but Blaine knows he will one day.

* * *

That day comes the summer before Kurt leaves for New York. Blaine trying his best to stop thinking ‘before Kurt leaves _him_ for New York.’ The house is empty. They’re kissing before the door’s even closed, Kurt toeing off his shoes without detaching their lips. Blaine smiles against Kurt’s mouth, can’t help it, and Kurt pulls back to raise his eyebrows.

“Is there a problem?” He asks, but waits for no response before his arms are around Blaine’s waist and his sweet lips are at the curve of Blaine’s jaw.

Blaine lets out a laugh, high and happy, pushing at Kurt’s shoulders half-heartedly. “Stop it!” He giggles. “I have a plan.”

Kurt steps back, but he’s pouting and tapping his foot as Blaine slips past him to collect something from his bedroom, a quick _stay here_ breathed into his ear.

Blaine had prepared this the night before, as soon as he learned his mother was going to Columbus for the weekend. There’s a cloth covered basket at the foot of his bed containing a blanket, his best attempt at oatmeal raisin cookies and some store-bought chocolates if the cookies don’t go over well. He skips downstairs with the basket on his arm, past Kurt - who looks up from his phone when he hears his footsteps - and into the kitchen to snatch his mom’s bottle of wine from the fridge.

Kurt follows him and grabs his free hand just outside the back door. “Backyard picnic?”

Blaine shakes his head and smiles. “Even better.”

He pulls Kurt down the garden and over the fence, through the chest-high grass and to an area where the stalks are noticeably bent, a few still flattened to the ground. He lays the blanket down, trampling down a few extra feet to accommodate the extra person.

Blaine sits, lays out the cookies and pats the space in front of him. Kurt looks down at him, shaking his head, but there’s that soft affection in his eyes that he so rarely lets shine through. “You’re something else.”

They sit opposite each other under the midday sun. They talk and laugh. Kurt fiddles with the hem of Blaine’s pants almost constantly, fingers tickling his bare ankles every so often. The sun has just barely begun to turn the world to gold when Blaine uncorks the wine. It’s far too sweet, but neither of them have refined enough palates to care.

The shadows are pink and stretched as Blaine watches Kurt finish off the last dregs of wine. The bottle was only half-full to begin with, so they’re barely tipsy. Kurt's throat bobs as he swallows. Blaine feels the alcohol warming him from the inside out. He takes the bottle from Kurt’s hands and lets it fall onto the blanket before shuffling forward on his knees, and Kurt stretches his legs out, leans back on his hands almost on instinct for Blaine to climb over him. Blaine cradles Kurt’s face in both his hands and kisses him, sitting in his lap and starving.

They kiss and touch until the sun has made its descent behind the field. Kurt mouths at Blaine’s bare shoulder. Blaine doesn’t think about how little time they have left.

* * *

The next time Blaine returns to the field he has a ring on his finger. It matches Kurt’s. They’re only here for one night to collect Blaine’s things before they catch their flight to New York the next morning, and Blaine can’t resist stepping just a few feet into the field, letting his hands brush the dry stalks. He stands there listening so carefully to the breeze whistling through them that he doesn’t hear Kurt coming, just feels broad hands wrap around his waist from behind. He relaxes into him, lets Kurt hold him up.

“I remember what happened last time we were in this field.”

It’s whispered into his neck and makes him smile, skin warming slightly at the memory. Kurt presses a kiss high on his cheekbone as if he can tell. He closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of the setting sun on his face. “I’m going to miss this place.”

Kurt hugs him tighter. “We’ll come visit.”

Blaine hums, taking one last long look at place that kept him safe for so long. He turns in Kurt’s arms, rests his head on his shoulder and says, “I know.”


End file.
